


Withdrawal Symptoms

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 14:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13882383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which Napoleon realizes that kicking a bad habit is harder than it looks--but that having a loyal partner helps a lot.





	Withdrawal Symptoms

Illya was watching silently with their cat, Baba Yaga, as Napoleon proceeded to turn the apartment upside-down as he upended drawers stuffed with odds and ends in his search for the cigarettes that he had asked Illya to hide. He had been trying to kick the habit and had enlisted Illya’s help for this specific quest, and Illya had agreed, having wanted Napoleon to kick the habit for some time now. But the optimistic beginning had given way to withdrawal cravings—something that Illya had warned him about.

Napoleon had assumed that the withdrawal cravings were something he could easily handle, in spite of Illya’s reminders that this wasn’t an evening at the casino (“All the luck in the world won’t change the body’s natural response…”), and it was only after they had set in that Napoleon realized the full fury of a body’s betrayal of itself.

His search for the cigarettes that Illya had hidden was coming up empty, as well; neither Illya nor the cat had moved from the couch as they watched. Obviously, Illya felt for Napoleon, and yet, he knew that if Napoleon relapsed into smoking again, trying to quit the next time would be even more difficult; it was why Napoleon had decided to go cold turkey in the first place, feeling as though that trying to reduce the number of times he smoked would only lead to him putting off the final day.

At least, that was what he’d thought then; now, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

“Okay,” he sighed, mopping the sweat from his brow. “Maybe I should have gone with the gradual decrease method after all. Illya, give me my cigarettes.”

But Illya didn’t budge.

“Napoleon,” he said, gently. “Though I did warn you about the cravings, you agreed that you would attempt to hold out as long as you could.”

“This is it,” Napoleon insisted. “ _This_ is as long as I could. Cigarettes, please?”

“Napoleon…”

“What do you want me to do!? Beg!?”

Illya arched an eyebrow, clearing imagining Napoleon on his knees.

“Oh, my God, you do…” Napoleon groaned, facepalming. “Illya, please don’t do this to me… What did you do with my cigarettes!?”

“I considered keeping them in the kitty litter,” Illya admitted. “But Baba Yaga would not have liked the smell, and besides, you would have run out and bought more--”

“…I can still do that now,” Napoleon realized, and he headed for the door, stopping as he felt his empty pocket. “…Where’s my wallet?” He looked back and saw Illya looking back at him serenely. “Oh, for the love of--!”

“Relax,” Illya said, pulling both Napoleon’s wallet and his cigarette case from his own pockets; Baba Yaga caught a whiff and bolted from Illya’s lap. “To continue this would be too childish. We are both grown adults. Not only that, we are both trained enforcement agents…” He paused, briefly, as Napoleon reclaimed both items from him, and immediately pulled out a cigarette from the case; Baba Yaga, who had still been watching, now flattened her ears back in disapproval. “You are one of the best enforcement agents I have ever met, Napoleon. You are a hero and a good man—that is innate in you. But you are also a strong man—that is from your own training, having shaped yourself to that way. You have defeated so many enemies thanks to your inner strength. That is why I believe you can defeat this, too.”

His words had the desired effect; Napoleon had been lifting the cigarette to his mouth while looking for his lighter, and had stopped upon Illya’s last statement.

“You have an endurance that was ranked among the highest in your Survival School records,” Illya continued. “Not just physical endurance, but mental endurance, as well; you were able to completely resist all of the known forms of hypnosis and brainwashing in THRUSH’s bag of tricks. Do you not realize the amount of mental strength that is required to achieve that? THRUSH once succeeded in brainwashing me, and yet they have failed with you! Even when they use fear gas or other substances to play on your emotions, you still manage to remain true to yourself!”

Napoleon continued to stare at the tiny, white object in his hand. It was true; he had great mental strength against the very worst that THRUSH had to offer. So how was this tiny cigarette able to control him so well?

“Even with the nicotine withdrawal having made you irritable, never once did you raise your voice to me,” Illya continued. “Even when I was being purposefully difficult—you begged and pleaded and showed your exasperation, but you refused to show me any hostility for my part in your frustrations. I have heard tales of others suffering from the withdrawal symptoms who have driven their loved ones to tears from their irritability. So, you see, you are already more in control than you realize.”

He gently tugged on Napoleon’s sleeve, pulling him down onto the sofa beside him.

“I can help you,” Illya said. “I know you think the world of me. If I gave you an ultimatum—that the lips that touched cigarettes could never touch me, I could get you to drop that cigarette right now. But I only wish to use that as a last resort—for there are other ways to help you that can rely on your inner strength. For example, I can word that ultimatum differently and make it an invitation instead. Napoleon… I can show you something else you can do with your lips…”

He suddenly pulled Napoleon in close and kissed him. Napoleon hesitated a moment, and then dropped both the cigarette and the case, which spilled its contents on the floor. He didn’t notice, instead wrapping his arms around Illya and kissing him back. As they carried on, Baba Yaga sniffed at the cigarettes, hissed at them, and, with several swipes of her paw, sent them under the couch.

Some time later, as the cat was contentedly attacking her scratching post, the cigarettes still remained forgotten as Napoleon and Illya continued to distract themselves on the couch.

Napoleon was stronger than he realized. And he had Illya lending him his strength, as well.

He _would_ get the best of this.


End file.
